Virology
by rhoades
Summary: Slow to start, almost unseen...quickly taking hold and growing rapidly out of control. Viruses don't discriminate, don't care who they change...but they will change the world of everyone they encounter
1. Infection

Part One : Infection

Ray reached into a deep front pocket of his favourite faded army jacket and retrieved another small lead pellet pinched between thumb and forefinger. Reaching forwards he expertly pulled the bolt backwards on the old, battered air rifle he carried and placed the projectile into the breach of the weapon.

He made sure it was sitting snuggly and pushed the bolt back home. It made a satisfying clunk as it locked into place.

He put his fnger through the trigger gaurd and wrapped it around the smooth metal flicking the safety off with an ease that came with years of practice.

Ray lifted the rifle and took a peek through the hundred-dollar telescopic sights.

He scanned the refuse yard in front of him, the area a mass conglomeration of rusted cars to household waste, rusted corrugated sheeting to batteries leaking old acid, mould and rust creeping up and along sharp edges.

He heard a rustle somewhere behind him and spun around instantly dropping to one knee in a well-practised fluid movement that defied his large size.

He centered the crosshairs on an old rusty paint tin, half full with solid colour and watched as it slid down the mound of refuse it had been perched on. It picked up speed until it came to rest at the foot of the heap of rubbish. Ray took a split second to take this all in and then flicked his gaze back to the hole that had been formed by its passing. The gun settled from a minor quiver to a steady hold as Ray held his breath and waited.

He saw movement in the shadows.

He waited. His breath slowly exhaled and inhaled in a way only years of practice brought

Something, some animal with dirty matted fur slinked around the interior just out of sight. His finger tightened on the trigger, just a hairs breath of pressure stopping the shot.

He waited.

This is what he did.

The rat appeared a minute or so later, not so much as afraid of him, in fact probably not even aware of his pressence yet. All it had done was rouse itself to see what the noise had been. It sniffed the cold morning air in front of it, still mostly hidden from view, and sampled the array of scents outside. The remainder of the head and shoulders appeared and gripped the edge of the hole slowly tilting its head first one way then the other peering at the sights revealed to it.

Rays breathing slowed even more til he was hardly drawing breath at all, the gun not so much as wavering a millimeter.

He waited.

The rats head swiveled in his direction, the small blood-red, unblinking eyes seeming to stare straight at him. Somehow realizing that it was no longer alone it started to slide backwards into the hole.

Ray smiled.

'Too slow Roland.'

The small lead pellet flew from the barrel of the rifle at more than five hundred feet per second with very little sound other than a small crack. It flew across the open ground and entered one of the rats eyes. The orb burst with a low wet pop. The rat started to thrash, its paws going to its face as if it were trying to claw its way into its skull to retrieve the forign object now resting within.

Ray quickly retrieved another pellet and re-cocked the weapon. Raising the gun once more he lined up a second shot. Breathing slowly once more he expertly placed the pellet through the rats other eye.

The rat went nuts, its claws raking chunks from its snout as if fought to find the pellets. It thrashed then, just as Ray was getting another pellet ready, started to slow. It slowed, slowed...then stopped altogether.

Ray put the safety on and placed the gun across his back by its strap. He jumped down from where he had been and calmly walked to where the rat lay twitching in its death throes. He stood above it and looked down watching as its bodies struggles got slower and slower. He smiled and deliberately lifted his boot above the creature. His heavy, treaded workboot came down and stomped the rat into the soft ground, the body seeming to come apart under his foot, blood and bits of brittle bone spraying in all directions. Ray ground down with his heel snapping ribs and spine like small twigs.

He lifted his foot to check his handiwork.

The thing mashed into the floor no longer even resembled what it had been in life. Guts and internal organs littered the area around the animal, bone fragments lay splintered and ground into dust.

The head twitched...a nerve impulse, the tenacity of the animal refusing t give in even as the rest of its body died.

'Oh ratty...you is a mess.'

Ray started to softly chuckle to himself as he slowly bent down to retrieve the carcass.

When his fingers were just inches from the animal its head swung around at what seemed an impossible angle and sank its sharp teeth into the meat of his wrist. Ray thrust his hand back, a cry of pain escaping his lips, the rats wasted body coming with the movement. He swung his arm backwards and to the side trying to dislodge the remains of the rat. His surprise and shock disipated quickly and anger set in.

'Oh, you little bastard!'

He got down to one knee, the rifle slipping from his back and landing on the hard ground. He reached across his body and grabbed the rear of the rat, or rather, what remained of the rat, and pulled with as much strength as he could manage. He gripped the crooked spine in vice-like fingers and pulled. The body stretched like taffy, the skin, muscles and sinews stretching way past what they should. He felt the sharp incisors sink deeper into his flesh, the points finding the bone. He grit his teeth and pulled harder. The body came apart in a welter of blood and innards, the gore-streaked insides flying in all directions.

He hurled the rear of the rat as far as he could, the teeth in the head still buried in the flesh of his wrist. Ray felt hotness as blood started to flow freely over his and and down his arm, soaking into the heavy fabric of his shirt and coat. He stood and grabbed the head and the remains of the spine that trailed from it and pulled with all the strength that he had left. The head pulled free, the teeth tearing out his wrist and taking a fair chunk of flesh with it. Ray barely looked at the wound as he lifted the head in the air and threw it to the ground. Amazingly the jaw still worked as the rats severed head started to chew on the piece of meat still in it. He lited his boot and brought it crashing down with relentless force.

Once. The skull caved in on itself, the eyes popping from thier orbits and exploding like pressed grapes.

Twice. The sole of his boot skidded through the mess and forced the remains into the hard ground. The brain inside the skull squirting in all directions.

He stepped back and looked at what was left of the rat ahead of him now barely recognizable as such. As the adrenaline of the situation wore off he finaly became aware of his injuries. He reached across and put his torn wrist in the folds of his coat, the blood starting to soak through almost straight away. He turned away and stumbled towards the gates of the rubbish yard, the gun all but forgotten at his back.

He didn't see the hundreds of yellow and red eyes as they watched him walk away in pain.


	2. Later

**Monday 3:15 p.m.**

'So, according to you Mr. Barnes, this wound wass the result of a rodant bite? Is that correct?'

Ray looked up at the question.

The doctor was young, too young it seemed. He looked over the top of the clipboard he carried officious and condescending. White coat gleaming the stethoscope slung around his neck like a badge of office. Thier eyes locked and he lifted one eyebrow.

Ray grinned, trying to keep calm. He had been passed to three nurses and an attending who had looked even younger than this kid.

'What's the matter doc? You calling me a liar?'

The young man held up a hand and actually swayed his body back a little.

'No, no. Not at all. I'm just a little...surprised thats all.'

Ray leaned forwards slightly from the bed on which he sat. 'You know something? Anytime a quack tells me he's surprised, and has the look on his face that you're wearing right this minute, it always worries me some. Care to explain?'

The doctor reached for the chair behind him and pulled it closer. He sat and placed the board he carried face-down so Ray couldn't see the paperwork.

'How does the hand feel Mr. Barnes?'

Ray looked deep into the mans eys hoping to find any hidden meaning to what was asked as the most innocent of questions. He held up his heavily bandaged limb and stared at it as if he could see through the wrappings to what lay underneath. The fingers were still discoloured from dried blood and bruising. He flexed the digits to test the movement. Everything seemed to work okay with very little discomfort at all.

The white bandage extended from the bottom of his fingers almost to the mid point of his forearm. He lifted his arm to see a redness creeping under the skin, almost like a mild sunburn.

'It's okay actually...hardly any pain at all, just...numb. Whatever you guys gave me when I arrived really did the trick.'

The doctor leaned back into the chair and steepled his fingers, a gesture that seemed out of place an a guy so young.

'That's part of the problem...we haven't given you anything. You came into the emergency department holding your arm in your jacket, bleeding all over the floor and passed out near the front desk. We located the problem and stitched you up, then just waited until you came around. You woke up about an hour ago with a clear head, no nausea, no diziness.'

The doctor pulled a probe from a coat pocket and held it above Rays wrist. 'Close your eyes.'

He looked weary for a second but then closed his eyes and put his head back.

The doctor placed the probe above the bandage and applied a little pressure at aexactly the spot where the torn skin would be.

Ray stayed calm, his face registering no pain...nothing.

He pushed harder, the blunt tip of the probe forcing the bandage covering further and further into the wound, slipping between the coarse weave of the gauze and touching raw skin underneath.

Rays eyes were still closed. 'Ready when you are doc.'

Slowly the doctor looked up and into his patients face. The other man showed no sign of pain or discomfort. At the very least all the prodding should have made his snatch his hand back.

He took the probe away and dropped it into a nearby nwaste bin. He quickly and quietly wrote something down and turned the board back over. 'Okay, you can open your eyes now, I'm done'

Ray opened his eyes and sat there with a questioning look on his face. 'Okay, care to tell me what that was all about?'

'Just wanted to test a theory that was to worry about.'

He stood and pulled the curtain back around the cubicle. 'I'd like to see you again...just for a check-up, change the bandage check the wound. You can make an appointment as you leave.

Ray stood up and grabbed his jacket and the bloody jumper from the floor. 'Thanks for the patchup doc, appreciate it.' He walked past the doctor and made his way out into the emergency room.

The doctor stood in the same place after he had gone, a look of puzzlement on his face. He looked at the results of blood and various other tests that had been done when Barnes had been unconcious. His puzzlement turned to a deep frown.

Strange, he thought. Very starnge indeed. He shook himself slightly and turned back into the room.


	3. Flesh and Blood

**Monday 10:30 p.m.**

The glass hit the wooden bar top with a solid thump, a little of the amber liquid slopping over the side and dribbling down the frosted side.

'I swear Ted, you should have seen it...the damn thing was this big.'

Ray spread his hands til they were three feet apart wobbling ever so slightly on his bar stool. A picture in his mind of the rat that had bitten him. The others around him looked back with a mixture of resigned amusement and outright disbelief. The blonde on the other side of the bar put down the glass she was wiping and gave him a wink.

'Isn't that what allk the boys say Ray?'

The bar exploded into a chorus of wild braying laughter. Ray put his hands down and retrieved his pint. He upended the glass and drank what was left in several deep swallows. He had come to the bar as soon as he had left the emergency room, the blood and bruising still fresh in his mind and on his arm. He had been drinking steadily since his arrival but had, so far, been unable to get anything more than a slight buzz on.

The pain that had recently started in his arm though...that was something else, that was...real. He had had no pain at the hospital but that had changed.

And it was getting worse.

He excused himself and made his way to the back, heading for the toilets, the laughter starting to drop off behind him. Something was said and the laughs started again even louder than before. He walked through the door and the noise was cut off. He walked down the short hallway and through the door to the toilets. Inside he took several deep breaths.

He looked to his arm and sighed, not really sure what he was dgoing to do.

After a while and more deep breaths he rolled the sleeve of his shirt as far up his arm as he could. He could feel an itching start under the gauze and ached to dig his fingers in and just scratch and scratch until it went away. Before he could think about it anymore he put his fingers underneath the fabric and ripped the bandage from his arm.

The wrappings fell to the floor of the stall in an untidy soiled heap, unspooling from his limb until he got to the sterile adhesive pad underneath. Yellow and green pus had leaked from under and through the small square of fabric. It stank to high heaven. Ray worked a corner loose and with a quick fluid motion tore it away from his injury.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw the wound for the first time.

The flesh around the wound was rotten and gangrenous, the skin pulled tight as a drum skin. It showed an healthy sheen, skin flaking away in strips. The stitches sat deep into the flesh of his arm. As he watched he could swear he saw the flesh expand and contract, the stitches sinking deeper and the reappearing just as quickly, a fresh dribble of rot oozing from the tear.

He dug two fingers into his arm as the mad itch started up again.

His fingers slid between and through the sutures touching muscle and even bone underneath. Some part of him wondered how he could be doing what he was, still another, why the hell he felt no pain. He had a moment more to marvel at the fact he had two finger in his arm up to the second knuckle when it happened...

The pain shot up the length of his arm with the speed of a bullet. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out.

He started to breath heavily, his chest rising and falling, suddenly exhausted.

It felt as if a bag of sea salt had been dumped into the wound. The pain so intense it stole his breath from his lungs. His heart thumped like a jack hammer in his chest, his temples pounding. He would have been happy to die right there and then.

His body betrayed him.

He wanted to pass-out, to be free from the pain at least for a while...his body had other ideas. He felt everything; every nerve-end on fire, liquid lave pumping down his arm. The limb burned with what seemed like the heat from a sun. Finaly...the scream that had been threatening for a while now broke free shattering the silence of the bathroom.

He couldn't take it anymore. Ray pounded his head against the walled side of the stall.

Once...The tiles cracked under the impact.

Twice...Blood spattered across the wall from a cut opened in his head.

Three times...His vision started to go grey at the edges and he started to slide from where he sat.

The last thing he heard was the rushing of feet as his fellow drinkers rushed into the room. He was already unconcious when the first of them kicked thier way through the stall door.


End file.
